He’s right, but the first jab doesn’t come from Veda. It comes from Khadijah.
“Why did you bring him here?”
Hiram barely reacts, but Gabriel flinches at her tone. “Hiram’s been helping with the investigation. This concerns him as much as it does Veda and the Oracle Council.”
“How?” she fires back.
“Not that I have to explain my presence to you,” Hiram interjects coolly, “but my son’s mother was a victim.”
Khadijah falls silent and excuses herself to check on Moab.
“Let me know when he wakes up,” Gabriel requests.
She salutes on her way inside.
Gabriel rubs the back of his neck and perks up as someone approaches. Veda follows his gaze to Francisco and Marlene. The former towers over the latter, carrying a large black bag. His face is guarded, tighter, far from the poised, relaxed man Veda knows. Marlene is tense, too. Her blue-black hair is pulled back into a thick bun at the top of her head. Despite the ridiculous-looking puffy jumpsuit, half unzipped to reveal a pastel-blue shirt and her blue-jay pendant, she wears professionalism to blanket her features. Veda notices the slight, skeptical twitch of Marlene’s brow when she spots Hiram, but after giving everyone a friendly wave, she offers him one gloved hand.
“I’m Scene Analyst Marlene Wells,” she offers in greeting. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Hiram Ellis.” He shakes her hand.
“You made it here quickly,” Gabriel comments. “Francisco was leaving to pick you up from the office.”
“I was nearby,” Marlene replies, then smiles at Veda. “How are you feeling after what happened at Lucinda’s?”
“A little sore but mostly better.”
“Good.”
Francisco sets the bag down, and Marlene immediately gets to work, retrieving masks for each Mage to protect them from the magical blowback Seers are immune to. She crosses the promenade to take photos of the spider lilies from multiple angles. When the flowers don’t burn after the shifting breeze causes them to touch her jumpsuit, a relieved exhale escapes along with a nervous smile. “Close one, yeah?”
Marlene mock-wipes her brow and pulls out her hawk’s-eye stone.
“So, in theory, what does this test do?” Veda asks.
“It shows what happened and lists the identities of everyone whose Imprint remains,” Francisco explains.
“Even the Botanist?”
“If they’re a Seer, the results appear instantly, thanks to the Registration being imprinted in each hawk’s-eye stone.”
Hiram frowns. “A test that could identify the Botanist. Why haven’t you used it before?”
“Imprints fade quickly. Three hours, max. Every victim before, we’ve arrived long after their attacks, and we’re only able to determine the type of magic used. At Lucinda’s, Veda was there, but Lucinda had been dead for several hours before her arrival, and it doesn’t appear as if the Botanist used magic after casting a wasting curse to scrub the scene clean. But with Moab, we’re within the window of his attack, and with nothing cast to clean their Imprint, residuals should be still present. We should get a match.”
Gabriel nudges his partner. “She still won’t talk to you?”
“No,” Francisco mutters. “I keep trying to figure out what happened, but she shuts me down. I don’t know, it’s been three months, and she seems ... different.”
“She doesn’t seem all that different to me.”
“That’s because you don’t pay attention—never mind ...” Francisco runs a hand through his hair. “She usually hates birds and pastels, and likes it when I carry her bag. It’s heavy, used to bruise her leg because she’s not allowed to use anything beyond basic magic in public. But I had to take it from her because she was about to cast a weightless charm without even thinking what would happen if anyone saw. That’s mid-level magic and illegal for Seers to do in public.”
“You’re just feeling the wrath of a woman who’s changed her mind ... and her style. My ex-wife changed her hair, clothes, and career. Now she’s shooting a documentary on the effects of the Great Vanishing on Lewes, South Carolina, for the upcoming anniversary.” Gabriel pats Francisco’s shoulder. “Look, it sucks. But take it from someone who fought his divorce tooth and nail: You can’t fight their choice.”
Francisco’s frustration smooths into concentration, but Veda sees the storm still brewing behind the easygoing man’s dark eyes.
She watches Marlene and shrugs. “Maybe she’s stressed. She’s been pushing hard for a promotion. Barely hangs out with Khadijah.”
